The Voice in the Dark Ch. 03

"Luce. You look stunning. As always."

"Are you sure? It's not too much, is it?"

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?" I ask jokingly.

Lucy pauses for a minute as she allows it to sink in. Her first real prospect for a serious relationship, and already she is wondering what on earth is going on.

"Yeah. That's funny, isn't it? Maybe I should just go casual. I mean, it's only dinner, right?"

I put a stop to this strange behaviour and hold her by the shoulders as I say.

"Go, have fun. You deserve to have a lovely time after so long looking after me. I feel bad that I have kept you here whilst recovering from my breakup, and I want you to have a good time."

Lucy looks worried, but I hold her gaze for a moment before I give her a kiss on the cheek and a long hug.

"Go, I'll be fine. I could use a night to myself. I need to call my mum anyway. She and I had a fight and she will call relentlessly if I don't make the first move."

"Okay, if you're sure. Call me if you need me. Promise?"

"I promise," I lie, wanting to be alone suddenly.

She picks up her bag and collects her keys from the side table and I blow her a kiss as she goes out to really enjoy herself for the first time in months.

When the door clicks shut, I take the time just to enjoy the quiet and the solitude after the craziness of the last couple of weeks. I lie on the sofa, order something nice to eat and focus on the background noise of Netflix . I let my mind wander upon occasion as I watch, not really thinking about anything in particular. I smile at the wonderful memories of my times with Lucy, with Gloria, and all the times I will have in the future as I move forward in my life.

I am just getting back to my happy place, when my phone starts vibrating. I sit up momentarily and check my screen.

Can we talk? xoxo

For a moment, I feel a dart to my chest and my mind instantly goes to Smith. He found my number? I didn't give it to him though, surely? I wasn't that drunk.

I am about to respond with a flirty text, until I remember Justin's text from this morning and I mute the ringer just as it begins to break dance across the coffee table and I let it go to voicemail. It then rings a few more times before I finally text back:

Busy now. Can't talk

He almost immediately responds: Can we meet? I'd really like to talk

I feel the annoyance flow through me like boiling hot water in a pipe, and I want to hurl my phone at the wall. But I compose myself and instead I send back:

I don't think that's a good idea. We said all we needed to say.

Then I immediately turn off the phone and I go back to watching my movie, determined not to give it any more thought. I have done enough thinking. Enough crying. I can't allow him to hurt me any more than he already has.

I'd be lying to you if I said part of me wasn't curious as to what he has to say, and maybe I would just really love to see him grovel after all the misery he has caused me. Every girl has those vengeful fantasies once in a while, right?

I think back to how my mum would react, and I know she'd take his side. She loved him almost as much as I did, and I am not sure she ever found fault in him. Had we gotten that far, I dread to think how much of my wedding my mother would have planned years in advance. I grit my teeth in exasperation and try not to think about the last time we talked.

I instead focus on just being present in the moment, and allow all the stress to fall away from me. My body sinks further into the sofa and my eyes concentrate on the ceiling, allowing my vision to become narrower and narrower before they finally close. I don't quite feel the pull towards sleep though, just to keep my eyes closed.

You know that I enjoy your company very much, Jess. Right?

I do. I like to talk to you too.

Can you remember much from our conversations?

I only remember certain things, Smith. Like, we share an entirety of moments together and I can never remember anything the next morning. Why is that?

Wouldn't you rather just listen to my voice and hear me say such naughty, naughty things to my special girl?

"Yes Smith. I do. I want to hear you," I catch myself saying, and my eyes spring open, surprised at the sudden clarity of my thoughts.

I remember the feeling of his hand in mine, the scent of his hair and how my heart tugged at the sight of how unkempt he looked that night. The dark circles under his eyes and the tensing of his jaw somehow made me want to kiss his troubles away.

Yet, I don't have a clue who this man is. I know I should be afraid of how much power I have given him over my thoughts, but I can't help but want to experience much more of the human side I got to know last night. I don't remember anything that came after, but I feel on some level that I should. Like I am missing something important.

I want to see him again.

Yet self-preservation prevails and I sink into the sofa in disappointment. I may have gotten lucky seeing him twice in the same bar, but some things just don't belong in reality. What if he's completely different to how I remember him? What if he's dangerous? I mean, every time I have seen him, I wake up the next day with absolutely no clue as to what happened to me.

Then again, why would I wake up at home? Why wouldn't he just do what he wanted and then leave me somewhere without a second thought? I have been avoiding thinking about these things. Was he just a figment of my imagination? Why would a man that gorgeous, clever and witty, really want me?

I admit to still being a little fragile after my break up, and maybe he could sense that vulnerability and use it against me. I just don't think I could cope if the secret joy I have turns out to be a lie. Couldn't I just live in the illusion a little longer?

I want to remember how it felt to have his lips on mine, his arms wrapped around me. I know I should remember all these moments, but I don't and it feels very wrong somehow that I don't. This obviously cannot continue indefinitely as either the real person will disappoint me, or the encounters we have will no longer be enough for me. Maybe I should just quit while I am on a high and remember it as a good time later in the future.

I put it out of my mind for now and instead concentrate on enjoying the rare moments of absolute peace without the distractions of everyday life.

The shrill ring of the house phone breaks the silence and I jump in surprise. It's only about 7:00 PM and I am half expecting to hear my mother's worried voice at the end of the phone, but instead I hear:

"Why didn't you call me? It's not like you to turn your phone off!"

My mind doesn't click into gear and for a moment, I am wondering if it's Justin calling me on my home number, but I sigh in relief as Gloria's no nonsense tone rattles through the receiver.

"Oh hey, Glo. Sorry, I er... guess I am still hungover from last night. It was great, wasn't it?"

"Tell me about it. I felt like I was dying when I woke up this morning. Poor Dan has been so wonderful and so patient fetching me water and coping with my headaches. See, this is why we have men waiting on us hand and foot, right?"

I laugh and allow her to go into great detail about her new husband's attentiveness, all the while I try to keep thoughts of Smith from my mind.

"So, what happened last night? Did you have to sit in the apartment as you listened to those two having sex. Hah, such torture, right?"

I pause momentarily, and I really try to think about how to phrase my response.

"I don't really know. I fell asleep hard. I was really drunk. Anyway, he was there this morning so he obviously stayed."

I know she wants to probe more but I don't want her questioning me any further about this, so I quickly change the subject.

"You know Justin texted me this morning? Can you believe it?"

"Really? What did he say?" She says with incredulity, and I try not to cringe at the absurdity of it all.

"Er... he said that he wants to talk. That he feels bad and misses me."

"Wow! After three months with virtually zero contact? I'd say throw the damn phone out the window. Avoid all contact! He's not worthy of you."

"I have turned off my phone and told him that talking isn't really necessary. I think it's just too late after all has been said and done."

"I swear to God, you had better not let me near him, Jess. He's got an ass kicking coming to him."

I try to put the exchange with Justin out of my mind and focus on how far I have come since our breakup. I am determined not to continue with the mistakes of the past.

"Anyway, enough about him. Run me through your plans. It's gonna be a busy week at the office."

She pauses as if debating whether or not to continue with the subject of my ex, but eventually she says: "You have to help with another manuscript this week. You remember some months back when we stayed late in the office and just laughed at that awful manuscript for the history book? Oh my god, I wish we brought wine that night!"

"Oh yeah, I remember. I hope that the rejection letter told whoever sent it that they can't write for shit" I smile at the memory.

"Not that that will stop them. Honestly, some wannabe authors have more confidence in their lack of ability than most real authors develop in their lifetime. And we publish them anyway!"

"Tell me about it," I roll my eyes and I am just sitting comfortably back when Gloria brings up a subject that has been strangely absent from my mind lately.

"Hey Jess. You know our new boss is coming to an introductory meeting the week after next, right? That means Big Dick Johnson will be coming by the office this week to check over the accounts and stuff. Honestly, we will have seen more of him in the next week than we have all year."

"I think it will be the first time I have ever seen him." I say, knowing that I sound nervous. "Let's hope that he's nice, even just a little bit."

***

I stare in wonderment as Neil walks into the office followed by what can only be described as a powerhouse of a man.

He has a salt and pepper beard and is dressed head to toe in a tailored suit that clings to his obviously well trimmed body. He seems like a man who takes care of himself, even though I can guess his age to be in his mid to late fifties.

Mr Johnson listens attentively and patiently as Neil reels off some figures from a clipboard, running his hands nervously through his sexily messy hair. I wince in sympathy as I look up from my work and I thank my lucky stars that I am not in his place right now. Although Neil is trying his best, Mr Johnson's expression is, well... there is none. He is completely neutral, like he already knows everything but is giving Neil the chance to impress him.

His mouth is stiff in the corners and every so often he fiddles with his gold cufflinks. He has deep brown eyes that scan the room as if he knows something nobody else does, and he holds himself with the grace and poise of a man who has seen and experienced much in life. His ring finger flashes with gold and he tugs on the red tie that contrasts with the ice white of his shirt. He's obviously a knockout, and all the years on him only makes him look more elegant and attractive. You can tell that this is a man who was very much desired in his youth, and still works at maintaining that well into middle age.

I try to picture his wife. She must be a woman of great beauty, and intelligence. The kind who would not chase him, even when he could very well drive a lot of women crazy with desire. No, she would be strong, bold and yet so classy that she never felt the need to be anything to get this man's attention. She would just have it.

I can imagine her raven black hair cut into a short, sharp bob and her skin, although lined, is baby soft and her figure trim and curvy in all the right places. Her elegant trouser suits, pencil skirts and silk blouses would fit perfectly on her and she always carries an expensive designer bag on her arm. Her eyes scan the room in a similar way to her husband, the Brutus to his Caesar, and her sights would be trained on anything that would even remotely pose a threat to him, and their business. They are equals on all levels, but she also knows when to simply allow her husband to believe that he is the ultimate authority on things. As only the most intelligent and tactful women know how to do.

The image is so clear and so powerful that it's burned itself onto my brain, and I can only hope that I grow old with half as much grace and alluring presence.

I am so focused on admiring the big boss that I am caught off guard when I catch a glimpse of Neil's fine backside as he leans over the desk to show Mr Johnson the clipboard. I wonder at the softness of his hair between my fingers. The feel of his lips against my neck...

Stop it! I chastise myself, surprised at the direction of my thoughts. Although I have always said my boss is a knockout, I never seriously considered the possibility of sleeping with my boss. That is just beyond stupid!

Yet... I am a red blooded woman. I can't deny that my libido is a little more voracious than usual today, and I can't help but squirm in my seat every time Neil walks past and I fight the urge to push him against the wall, and...

I turn my attention quickly back to the computer as Neil and Mr Johnson turn their attention to the employees at their desks.

The days bleed into the next and I am beginning to lose any sense of time, except for the moment where I hear his voice at the end of the day, when my head hits the pillow.

***

My phone once again buzzes with a text from Justin and I have had enough. I just don't have the strength to deal with his BS alongside my mother calling me relentlessly. I haven't talked with her since last Friday but I know I can't ignore her forever. She is like a dog whining at a door. She is very emotional and fragile in many ways, and I don't want to hurt her, but I can't pretend like her constantly taking Justin's side throughout this whole thing hasn't annoyed me.

I am this close to throwing my phone against the wall when I suddenly hear a knock at my front door. I am not expecting Lucy home for hours and Gloria has taken a long weekend for her anniversary with Dan. Who on earth could be calling at this time?

I pull on the door knob and my mouth drops open at the sight of my ex boyfriend.

He's looking disheveled and his eyes are a faint pinkish colour, like he's not getting enough sleep. He was always quite casual in his dress, but he honestly looks like he just rolled out of bed.

"Justin. What are you doing here? I told you that we had nothing further to say to each other."

"Jess. Please, can we just talk for five minutes? I know you're mad at me, you have every right to be, but I really think we should talk."

I pause, holding the door frame and debating whether or not to just slam the door in his face, but curiosity wins out and I hold it open for him.

"You can come in for five minutes, but that's it. I want you gone by the time Luce gets home. She'll more than likely kill you if she finds you're here."

He nods and walks slowly into the living room, sitting down on the sofa and looking around awkwardly. I don't bother to ask if he wants anything, bad hostess etiquette aside, I just want him to say what he has to say then get out.

"The old place hasn't changed much. Doesn't seem like five minutes since I was last here."

"Justin. You and I both know you didn't come here to make small talk. What is it you wanted to say?"

He pauses a moment and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I want you back," he says passionately, "I know I hurt you before, and the amount of making up I have to do is insane, but I need you to know why we broke up, and what we can both do to move forward."

I am flabbergasted. He should be on his knees begging for my forgiveness and yet I have to listen to this drivel.

"I don't need to do anything, Justin! Whatever you have to say now doesn't make a difference."

I say it with more conviction than I mean, for months I have wanted to know why we broke up and now I finally have that chance.

He's about to say something when I interject with: "You said that I destroyed us, what did you mean by that?"

"I think that was just me taking out my anger and frustration on the wrong person Jess, I realise that now. I was so angry before I came to see you that night... I mean, you must have known, surely?" He asks with a sudden edge to his voice.

"Known WHAT? I have no idea what you're talking about, and if you're going to waste my time asking things that make no difference now..."

"Alright, Jess. I am sorry. I guess maybe part of me is still mad about it, but I need to know, Why didn't you think I could do it?"

I am beyond confused, and I wait for the moment where he tells me that he was with someone else, or he got bored, or something... anything.

"What are you talking about?" I ask in a barely audible tone.

"I sent my new manuscript into your publishing house some months before, and on the day we broke up, I got a rejection letter. I guess it was... I didn't mean to do it, but I was so angry that I just didn't want to be around you."

It doesn't immediately ring any bells, but I think I know what he is talking about. It was staring at me in the face the entire time. I sit in the chair reeling from his words. I didn't know it at the time, but if that was the reason I had to suffer so much, then I may have taken it more seriously.

"Yeah, Gloria told me this morning about a book so boring and riddled with grammatical errors that it made Fifty Shades look like a masterpiece." I know that is petty, and I don't intend for it to come across that way but I honestly have no room for compassion right now.

His face darkens and we sit in silence for a moment as I am reeling from the sudden realisation.

"That's the big mysterious reason? You broke up with me because you couldn't handle failure?" I sigh in exasperation, feeling like a complete idiot.

He suddenly sits up and stares at me with what looks to be annoyance.

"Jess, you know how difficult it was for me to even get enough courage to try, but all you kept saying was: keep going, you'll get there eventually, instead of actually listening to me." His volume gradually increases as if he has been keeping this back for a long time. "So I sent my history book to your workplace under a pen name without telling you."

I pause for a moment to allow that to sink in before calmly replying with: "Justin. Whatever your fears of rejection, and failure, that was never an excuse to hurt me. Were you aware that I worked in the Fiction department? There was no way I could have made any calls on whether to accept your manuscript? Only Gloria could do that." I skip over the part where we giggled over it and momentarily feel guilty about it, but my anger ultimately wins out.

He hangs his head in shame further, "I know Jess. I must have known that all the time, but I guess I was just so angry and so disappointed that I wasn't thinking clearly. I wanted to find someone to blame. I honestly thought that you'd put in a good word with one of the editors. I was your boyfriend, for Christ sake!"

Now, I am really close to losing my temper: "Justin, you know that we can't just accept something that is bad even if it was written by my boyfriend. And even if I could have helped you out, how could I have done that when I didn't even know you had written it?"

"I know. I know. It was wrong of me. I wanted to take back what I said but by then you weren't answering your phone, and whenever I called the house Lucy would tell me to fuck off and leave you alone."